


Eye of the Beholder

by Obsessive_Fangirl



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Blind!Robin AU, F/M, Fluff, and a touch of humour, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-25 03:23:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6178319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obsessive_Fangirl/pseuds/Obsessive_Fangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is hard when the most beautiful thing in the world is out of one's purview. But as a blind musician and a flower-shop owner discover second chances at love are within their realm of possibility, it becomes clear that beauty is simply in the Eye of the Beholder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 14th January - "The Day I Heard Your Voice."

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, hello everybody…  
> A few close friends will know I’ve been hoarding this fic for about a year and a half, and I think if I don’t start posting it now then I never will. So for those close friends; thank you so so much for all your help with this, I couldn’t do this without you. (And there is a special shoutout for my best friend, Sarah, because she spots all the typos I miss and transfers her excitement for this onto myself). This fic is originally rated T but at some point that will change – and it’s worth pointing out that the numbers in chapter titles are dates, eg: this is set January 14th (just to clarify) :D  
> So, to celebrate Once coming back today, here’s Eye of the Beholder…

 

The smell of bacon is a gift from the gods. Possessing magical powers, it has the ability to rouse the deepest of sleepers, cure the worst of hangovers, and make Robin Locksley forget that his morning had gone in the entirely opposite direction of what he had planned.

He hadn't even needed to order his usual lunch; he had called John, entered a stream of displeasured ranting for the entire bus journey there, and when he had arrived at his friend's diner, Robin had been ushered to his table in the corner where a bacon butty and a cup of tea were already waiting for him.

His friends are far too good to him, had been for years ever since he lost his sight as a teenager. They'd been his family, his support network, his strength. One day he will find a way to repay them.  Somehow. After everything they have done for him, he owes them his life.

Robin smiles at the memories of his friends, feeling grateful for their uncanny ability to always know exactly how to cheer him up. And true to form; it's halfway through his lunch when Robin starts to relax, the pleasant atmosphere of his secondary home lulling him into contentment.

The majority of his time is spent in the diner; here he is able to converse with his friends who own the establishment, and in his little table for two tucked in the corner, he has a place he feels safe, staving away the loneliness of living alone.

He places his half-eaten sandwich back on his plate, takes a sip of his tea that's gone a little cooler than he prefers, and then leans against the wall to his left, gently resting his head against the bricks and sighing as he focusses on the ambience surrounding him.

The man behind him has a cough, and from its deep timbre and the faint scent of tobacco, Robin presumes it's from smoking a few too many cigarettes. On the table to his right - the other side of the path from the door to the counter - there's a family with a young child, the eager scrape of cutlery on plates changing into the young boy's incessant ramblings about what dessert he would like, and his parents aren't sounding too enthusiastic about buying the boy ice cream " _for the third day in a row_ ". Somewhere towards the lounging platform on the far right - the raised decking area he knows houses couches and coffee tables that is sometimes cleared and used as a makeshift stage for live music - there are a few young women catching up, exclamations of ' _no!_ ' and ' _she didn't!'_ and ' _he's dating_ who _?!'_ breaking through their laughter and gossip. There's a playlist on loop in the background, and Robin's fingers tap out a beat to Coldplay's ' _Violet Hill'_ on the paper serviette underneath unused cutlery, then speed up their tempo a little when the song fades to ' _Thinking Out Loud',_ a tune he can't help but mouth the words to.

Heels clack on the wooden flooring as a woman walks past him, humming the same tune that will no doubt be playing in his head for the rest of the day, and when she reaches the counter, her voice filters through everything else; American, sultry, distinct, expressive. She orders ' _one ham and cheese panini, two tuna melts, with two bottles of coke and a water, to go'_ , and the words roll off of her tongue with absolutely no hesitation, no deliberating – unusual for a café, he muses – and so easily that Robin would be surprised if that isn’t the usual order spoken for whomever she is buying lunch.

When Sarah – John Little’s wife and the friendliest person Robin knows – asks if she wants them toasted, the woman replies in the affirmative, and Robin awaits for her next word, anticipating what he will hear next and preparing to try and memorise everything about her voice – not that he would ever forget such a thing. What it is about her that has his heart picking up speed and his breath caught in his throat, he has no idea. But whoever she is, she has the most beautiful voice he has ever heard.

The sudden vibration in his trouser pocket startles him, and the reflexive knee jerk into the table creates a rather loud clatter of cutlery that has Robin grimacing and dreading the feeling of his half cooled tea spilling into his lap. 

It's a pleasant surprise when he remains unscathed, and the breath he was holding escapes him as he rests his fingertips on the edge of the table, hesitantly checking for any spilt liquid around his mug. He finds none.

The ascending pattern of buzzing in his pocket still continues, and when he fishes his phone out and swipes his thumb across the screen to halt the alarm, he can still feel his upper thigh tingling. After double checking the time with siri and realising that he needs to leave now if he wants to be on time for the fundraiser he's helping with, he shoves the last few bites of his bacon butty in his mouth before downing the last of his lukewarm tea.  

He rises to his feet and starts to reach for his jacket when he’s knocked into the chair he just stood from, wincing as his thigh catches on the corner of the table and his hand presses against the rough wall to keep himself from overbalancing. Whoever bumped into him has a firm grip on his jumper, and he can feel the bag held in their grasp swing and fall against his hip.

As soon as he rights himself his fingers gingerly rub at the sore spot on his leg, his eyebrows drawing together in a frown as a dull ache takes residence.

The deep inhale and following “ _sorry,”_ distracts him from the pain, because it’s * _her*_ ; the woman with the beautiful voice he was enamoured with. “I didn’t see you,” she explains and Robin has to chuckle because apparently irony has a warped sense of humour.

“It’s fine,” he assures with a smile that he hopes is aimed in the right direction.

"You dropped your wallet," she points out, and Robin hears her shift, presumably to retrieve it from the floor. "Here."

He holds out his hand with a _'thank you_ ', an inexplicable smile tugging at his lips when his warm fingertips encounter her skin.

When he hears no further movement in front of him, Robin wonders if she's walked away already, crept past him and left him standing there like an idiot. But then he hears a warm _'see you'_ before the click of her heels returns as she leaves to brave the cold, winter air.

He doubts she hears his quiet ' _bye'_ in response, but he says it anyway, still standing there with his wallet in his right hand and the left grasping his jacket placed on the back of his chair.

There's a hand suddenly resting on his shoulder, and Robin feels hope spiral inside him that perhaps the woman had returned for something else. But, alas, it's just his friend Will Scarlet, with a chipper, “You ready to leave, mate?”

Robin stays standing for a moment, still trying to catalogue everything to memory; the smokiness of her voice, the warmth of her touch, the scent of fresh flowers…

“The woman who just bumped into me-” Robin starts, frowning.

“Yeah, I saw that,” Wills interrupts before asking a concerned; “y'alright?”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Robin assures, before licking his lips and frowning even more. “Describe her to me.”

“Can’t really remember much, mate,” Will admits, though he sees Robin’s face fall and starts racking his brain for any detail in the back of his mind that he saw from his station the kitchens; “she’s got dark hair, slim figure, wore a grey coat and black boots… Can’t remember aught else.”

“Right…”

It isn’t much, but it is _something_ at least.

“Why?”

“No reason,” Robin replies a little too quickly. Well, it wasn’t as if he could just blurt out ‘ _yeah I heard one word from her and think I fell in love..._ ’

Of course, Will knows better than his friend's denial; “Don’t believe ya. Try again.”

“I’m intrigued by her voice,” Robin admits after a pause, before adding an insistent; “that’s all.”

Though from the smug smile he can hear in his friend’s sceptical ‘ _mmm-hmm’,_ it is clear the excuse isn’t bought in the slightest.

Bugger.

…*…

The charity fundraiser goes rather well; the organisation that has helped Robin since the age of 13 receives over £400, a sum that will go towards helping others and aid Robin in his quest to make a difference. MySight is one of those charities that require heavily on donations from the public, and yet despite that, Robin frequently loses count of the number of people who have told him they owe them their lives. And so instead of raising money for the large charities that receive government handouts, Robin puts his time and energy into helping those who need it more. He'd always had a soft spot for the underdog anyway.

The generous money pot calls for a celebratory drink at the Merry Men's Diner, and so Robin hangs out there, waiting until closing time before the gang sits at a booth in the middle - and Will Scarlet pulls up a chair at the end so they can all fit; John Little and Brian Tuck take up most of their respective seats, leaving barely enough room for the others to their sides. Sarah Little usually curls up into her husband's side, her brother George sits next to her, and then on the other side of the table, Tuck squishes into the corner, then Will Stutely, then Robin sits at the end. They had tried sitting differently one day and it had thrown Robin so off kilter that they had agreed to never do it again.

They always have a plate of biscuits and cookies in the middle of the table, and Robin hopes that nobody notices his hand sneaking over and grasping two at a time. But he had skipped dinner in his quest to get back to the diner, so he had snacked on a steak and kidney pie when he arrived, and has settled for filling the gaps with custard cream biscuits and Oreo cookies. 

He's just stuffed  an entire cookie into his mouth when John declares a toast, and Robin practically breaks his jaw in trying to chew fast enough to clear his mouth. Will Scarlet chuckles from next to him, and Robin feels a hand brush the front of his shirt with the explanation; "ya got crumbs all over y'shirt, mate."

Mumbling a ' _thanks',_ Robin turns back to where John is speaking, a humble smile gracing his lips when praise is bestowed upon him for the work he does in helping others.

"To Robin, and good fortune…" John announces, and the man in question raises his beer and waits for the others to clink their bottles against his.

When it goes quiet, he takes a long swig, enjoying the refreshing burst of bubbles on his tongue as the others start up conversation again.

"So…" John starts, and Robin knows he's leaned on the table when the edge he was resting on raises a few centimetres. "A little birdie told me Robin has a crush on a mystery lady."

Robin's drink almost ends up sprayed over the table.

"I don't have a crush," he declares after he's stopped coughing. "We barely even spoke."

John chuckles. "The fact that you know who I'm talking about speaks wonders, my friend."

"Ooooh, what's her name?" Sarah asks, excitement brimming in her voice. "What's she like? Is she nice?"

Robin closes his eyes and sighs. "I don't know anything about her other than she's American."

"Oooh, exotic…" She says, and then when the table laughs and someone - it sounds like Will Stutely - reminds her it's 'only America', she tells them all to hush, pointing out; "Well, it's far away and it's not England."

"Did anyone see the lady?" Brian Tuck asks.

Will Scarlet speaks up; "Aye. Didn't see her face, but from where I stood she was a solid ten."

"Will, honestly…" George mumbles, and Robin can picture him shaking his head as the rest chuckle.

It doesn't really surprise Robin that his mystery woman has already gained the approval of Will - she was a woman and breathing, after all - but there's a slight worry that the man will make a move on her, and whether she accepts and ends up dating him, or refuses and ends up avoiding him, neither way works out in Robin's favour. He's not usually a praying man, but _by god_ he hopes that Will doesn't screw this up before anything even has the chance to start.

"You'll have to let us know whenever you next speak with her," John Little states, bringing Robin out of his little bubble.

The man's wife wholeheartedly agrees. "Oh, you _must_! I simply _have_ to meet the woman who can make our Robin blush."

"I'm not blushing," he mumbles, knowing it's a lie when he feels his cheeks heat even further.

"Are too," Sarah teases back, and then he hears a camera shutter click and she declares; "I have the photographic evidence to prove it."

"I propose an extra toast," Will Scarlet declares. "To Robin's mystery woman… and to hoping Robin taps that."

The entire table erupt into a mixture of laughter and groans - Scarlet's ' _ow'_ probably due to Stutely's penchant for punishing overly inappropriate comments.

"How about to Robin's mystery woman…" Sarah starts. "And to hoping this is the start of something good."

Robin lifts his glass when he hears the others shifting, knowing full well that the chances of the woman with the beautiful voice coming back to the diner in a city this large is very slim, but still willing to hope that fate will have them meet again.

Someday.


	2. 15th January - "The Day I Missed You."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, so I’m aware I haven’t updated this in aaaaages, but I’ve been busy with Uni and Knocking Hips and life in general, so my original plans to update this last month were a little delayed.   
> But anyway, here’s a snippet in Regina’s life in Eye of the Beholder :)

 

Granny's Diner is closed.

The usual diner which has the perfect food and perfect staff and perfect prices… And it is closed. Indefinitely.

The hand-written notice on the window informs passers-by that Ms. Lucas has been forced to close due to health reasons, and that it will re-open under her grand-daughter's management next month. Which is surely a major inconvenience for the Lucas family, but it is the end of the world for Regina Mills.

She _always_ comes here, it's only up the road from her place of work and she can beat the hustle and bustle of the City Centre. And as a creature of habit, the thought of trying different establishments in an attempt to find a new haunt fills her with a great sense of pure _urgh..._

She had found a decent place yesterday, and will continue to go there until she has reason not to; the food is good, the prices aren't too bad, and it felt cosy and welcoming from the moment she had set foot in the door. So now instead of turning right and heading up to Maid Marian Way, she turns left and takes a shortcut to Castle Gate. It only adds a couple of minutes to procuring lunch for her and her staff, and Regina finds that as long as the two women waiting in her shop get their food, they don't much care for where it comes from.

But of a choice between large corporations or little backstreet stores, Regina much prefers the latter; the ones which aren't too busy and are only known by locals or visitors that stumble across them whilst lost, and she could easily see this little diner becoming one of her favourites.

It had been pure chance that she'd stumbled across it; she'd read the sign taped to the door at Granny's, huffed, and had tried walking a little further up the street to try and find somewhere else to eat. And then down one of the side streets she had seen a wooden chalkboard propped up with ' _Today's Specials_ ' written in cursive at the top, the writing underneath it a little too small to work out from her position on the pavement.

It had been as good of a chance as any.

And so she had walked down the street, admiring the little church and old buildings, her heels clicking on the pavement past 'Royal Children' - the pub Emma had once dragged her to a couple of months after they had met - before the small diner came into view.

There were four wooden tables outside made of the same dark wood that framed the windows and doors, each with chairs either side for any brave diners willing to brave the British winter - the thought of sitting outside in this cold weather had made Regina wrap her coat tightly around her.

The large windows almost took up the entire front of the store, with a logo in the centre of all four panels; a bow, an arrow and a ' _Merry Men's Diner'_ in an arc on top.

 _Original for Nottingham…_ She had thought with a smirk.

The front door to the establishment was set back from the rest of the windows in an alcove, a place to shelter from the rain, brush away snow, shake one's umbrella...

The first thing that had hit Regina when she entered was how homey it was; warm tones of reds and browns for the seating, bare brick walls, dark wooden furniture, orange tinted lighting... It was the kind of place one could walk into and immediately feel at home.

That's what it's like today; Regina opens the door, takes one step onto the hardwood flooring, and immediately feels a little more content. She makes her way towards the counter, following the path set out by metallic strips to the other side of the diner, and then waits behind a young couple currently bickering about what to have for lunch. The dark haired man is protesting his desire to have a tuna sandwich, and the red haired woman is making her displeasure known at the thought of him eating _any_ kind of sea food - and seems adamant he isn't going to. In the end it's the redhead who wins, though the way she bites her lip and looks up at him through her lashes indicates she has had to resort to some underhand tactics.

 _Good for her_ , Regina muses with a wry chuckle.

They're still bickering as they go to find their table, taking their tray with two cappuccinos and the order number carved into a block of wood, and Regina can't help the smirk tugging at her lips as she steps up to the counter.

She's served by the same woman as yesterday; the short lady with a round face and a mass of brunette curls that resemble a lion's mane even when pulled back into a bun. Her smile stretches from ear to ear, a beaming grin showing all of her teeth as she asks; "what can I get you?"

Regina smiles back. "One ham and cheese panini, two tuna melts, with two bottles of coke and a water, to go."

"Coming right up," she says, taking one step towards the display holding the paninis before she pauses and leans back to ask; "toasted?"

Regina nods, smiles, then looks around the place a little more as her order is filled.

The right wall behind the counter is home to a coffee machine and a soft drinks dispenser, the space in the corner home to a selection of teas, coffee flavourings and cartons of milk. The back wall has mirrored shelves fitted into two arches set back from the brick, bottles of wines and spirits on display with a few decorative candles filling any gaps, a chalked menu of drinks hanging on the brick wall below the other handwritten menus - the 'all day breakfast', 'main meals', 'snacks and light bites' and 'desserts'.

Regina spends a moment or two salivating over the last list, the caramel cheesecake, the apple pie, chocolate fudge cake, mentally deciding to come here when she doesn't have staff to feed so she can sample them.

She catches sight of the kitchen door swinging open, her eyes immediately falling upon a slice of apple pie with a scoop of ice cream melting into the pastry, and her eyes hungrily follow the waiter as he delivers it to a table near the window.

Yes, she _definitely_ needs to try some of that.

She's mentally plotting when she has free time when the man returns through the kitchen door, he meets her gaze for a split second before the door swings shut behind him, but then she hears a shout of 'bloody hell' and her brow furrows.

"You'll have to excuse our Will," the lady behind the till starts. "We keep telling him to mind his language, but he never listens."

"I've heard much worse," she assures her, smiling as her drinks are placed on the counter in front of her.

"Oh I don't doubt that." The woman tosses a dishcloth over her shoulder, leaning against the counter as she lowers her voice; "we had this man come into here the other day, and I think he must have said every colourful word under the sun. We had to ask him to leave before any of our regulars heard him."

Unsure of what to say in response, Regina just offered a sympathetic smile and a shrug of her shoulders.

"Speaking of regulars, you're new here," the brunette continues. "What brings you to our humble diner?"

Regina just finds herself admitting; "Granny's was closed."

Though at the look on the woman's face she feels the need to be a little less blunt, and so she explains; "I was fetching lunch for my staff yesterday but my usual diner wasn't open, I stumbled across this one and liked it, so I thought I'd come here again today."

The beaming smile is back. "Well, I'm glad to hear we made an impression."

"That you did. You have a lovely place here."

"Thank you, dear." There's a pause as a large, rotund man appears from the kitchen, Regina's three paninis wrapped and ready to go.

"Hey, Sarah..." he starts, but the woman at the till - named Sarah, Regina notes - holds up a hand, telling him to ' _wait a moment_ ' as she fetches a paper bag from under counter and starts packing Regina's meal.

"Darling," he tries again, but she interrupts him.

"I have a customer, hold your horses." The man pulls a face behind her back, quickly schooling his features when she turns back to him to ask; "Why aren't you out collecting Robin?"

"Change of plans; he's meeting us here," he answers. "I came out to get a tea for us both."

Sarah gestures to her left, "well, you know where the machine is."

Regina watches with a sly smirk as he slinks over, muttering ' _yes dear'._ Sarah rolls her eyes, keying in Regina's order into the till before she hands the food over with the total.

"If he wasn't so useful in the kitchen I would have divorced him by now," she jokes, grinning when the man at the coffee machine turns around with an outraged ' _hey!'._ "Oh, hush and make your tea, you know I love you."

Regina watches the pair with a wistful smile, happy to see a marriage with such obvious mutual affection between them, and can't help but ask; "How long have you two been together?"

"We've been together for fifteen years, married for fourteen," Sarah pauses to whisper; "someone's got to put up with him."

Regina chuckles as she's handed her change - which is promptly deposited into a terracotta pot on the counter handpainted with 'MySight Charity' - teasing; "taking one for the team?"

"Exactly." Seeing Regina prepare to leave, Sarah wishes; "have a good day."

With a smile, Regina responds in kind before walking away, hearing Sarah's husband mumble something to her and the responding outcry of ' _what?'_ just as she pushes the door open. She looks through the glass panels as she closes it, seeing the woman take the dishcloth off of her shoulder and whip it against her husband's arm as they both laugh.

With her smile still lingering on her lips, Regina heads back to deliver lunch to two hungry employees, definitely seeing herself frequenting the Merry Men's Diner until Granny's re-opens.

...

There's something about walking in the winter air that's so very refreshing, the crisp bite accompanying every inhale that seems to leave behind a sense of cleanliness. It's a change from where Regina grew up; the winter in California was warmer than the British spring, and her house had never seen snow fall in all the years she had lived there. And yet here; there are trucks that put salt on the roads when temperatures reach too low!

It had both her and Mal in hysterics the first time they found out - they still giggle whenever they see the orange lights of the large vehicles.

Though being in their third winter, the novelty of a cold Britain is starting to wear off, and Mal grumbles every time she leaves their apartment as she's donning her thick coat and gloves and scarf and hat. But they'll gladly put up with the icy winters and perpetual rain and three-day summers that this city offers them; it's their fresh start, a clean break from the lives they had ached to escape from. They have never felt so free.

And in a stark contrast from their lives back in Atherton, they can walk down the street amidst a sea of faces, and not one of them will recognise who they are.

Unless it's Marco, the charming Italian who owns the store next door to Regina's, who takes it upon himself to greet her daily with a bright smile and a 'good morning, tesoro'. It never fails to put a grin on her face.

The man himself is invaluable to Regina; when she was first setting up her business, his carpentry and decorating skills had the place turning from an empty floor space into a gorgeous florist in half the time and half the expense - the only payment he desired was the bare cost of the materials, the occasional coffee and a frequent taste of her baking.

He even fixes any damages as and when they happen, a broken table leg or a jammed door or a cracked worktop... It's nice to have somebody taking of her. Regina would be lost without him.

Though she'd also be lost without the two girls inside her store, the dedicated workers who have taken off so few sick-days in the past three years that she can count them on her hands and still have fingers left over. It's part of the reason why she buys them lunch every day; a token of appreciation. 

When Regina enters her store, the two women in question make a beeline for her the moment they see food - fortunately there are no customers to get left behind.

Faye tears into her tuna melt and eats it as if she's had nothing to eat for a week - even though Regina saw her sneak a packet of potato chips and a whole pouch of malteasers before 10am. She would have called her out on it if she didn't steal a chocolate or two herself when the blonde wasn't looking.

Mary Margaret on the other hand... She takes the time to ensure her wrapper isn't torn, eats her ham and cheese panini delicately like the Disney Princess they dubbed her to be when they were handing out nicknames in the first month of working together. It would make Regina laugh if she didn't treat her food with the same care - although she had been dubbed a queen, and so she acts a bit more refined.

Faye - the petite blonde they had dubbed _Tinkerbelle_ \- brings out yet another chocolate bar the moment she demolishes her food, and the other two pause their eating to stare at her.

"What?"

"Anybody would think it was _you_ who were seven months pregnant," Regina quips, chancing a glance at the huge, I-swallowed-a-planet Mary Margaret sat opposite her.

"I'm a woman, I'm allowed to eat chocolate," Faye declares, before deliberately placing a chunk on her tongue, closing her eyes and humming in bliss.

Regina scoffs and sets about finishing her lunch, only slightly jealous of the woman's ability to stuff her face with chocolate and candy and still have her petite figure.

When Faye has finished, she throws her wrapper into the trash under the counter, and then heads onto the store floor to continue arranging the bouquets she was working on before she got distracted by food. She's already adding the green hypericum berries to the white lilies and roses by the time the other two have finished, looking around for a little extra to fill in the gaps.

The plants are on rows of shelves, buckets of flowers in tiers on the floor, other bouquets and arrangements on tables around the room, an organised chaos of colour resembling that of a wild forest.

"Try the tanacetum," Regina offers, and then seeing the lost look on her friends face as her gaze sweeps around the room, adds; "on the left wall, far end, they look like daisies."

"Gotcha."

"Hey, Regina, where do you go now Granny's is closed?" Mary Margaret asks, and as an answer, Regina turns around the paper bag on the counter so she can see the 'Merry Men's Diner' logo.

"Wherever it is, they have good food," Faye offers from half way across the room. "You have to continue going there."

"Oh, do I now?" Regina asks, a thinly veiled challenge in her voice at being told what to do.

Though the girls in the store are no longer afraid of her, and now consider her more of their friend than their boss, and so Faye just nods her head and responds with a gleeful; "Yup."

Regina turns back to Mary Margaret, a ' _can you believe this girl?'_ look on her face.

"Don't look at me," she says, holding her hands up in surrender. "I'm with Faye on this one; we're sticking with this one forever."

With a roll of her eyes, Regina purses her lips in a smirk and turns back to her food. Her eyes wander to the logo on the paper bag, and her mind wanders back to the comfy, homey diner and the staff there.

She has to admit; the thought of spending more time in the place doesn't seem that much of a hardship.

 


	3. 16th January - "The Day I Learned Your Name."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I forgot to update this fic here yesterday. I apologise.  
> I know it’s been a while since I’ve updated anything (except for a KH oneshot in ‘All These Lives’ for OQ Celebration Day last month which you should totally check out) but there’s been a lot of stuff that I’m dealing with lately, and so writing has been put on the backburner.  
> I’m still trying to write when I can, but I just wanted to assure people that I haven’t given up on writing and that I’m still very determined to complete my ongoing fics.  
> Anyway, here’s an awkwardly cute chapter for y’all. Please let me know what you think :)

 

Despite his insistence that he isn't going to listen out for the woman with the beautiful voice, Robin still feels a slight disappointment with every person entering the Merry Men's Diner that isn't her.

Although, Sarah had told him that she'd met her yesterday - even though she hadn't known it until the woman had left the shop, and John had received several whacks of a dishcloth for not telling her sooner - and so Robin hopes that she becomes a new regular here.

He reaches for his mug of tea, the warm temperature of the ceramic belying the luke-warm liquid inside, and Robin grimaces as he feels betrayed. He needs a new tea, a _hot_ cup of tea - one which he won't be too distracted to drink because he's thinking about someone he may never meet.

With a sigh, he reaches under the table for his cane, loops the strap around his wrist and stands.

He doesn't really need his cane for this short journey - he knows it takes exactly four medium sized steps in his 2'o'clock direction to get to the counter - but whilst he's comfortable making that trip after closing hours when the diner is empty, he finds it a lot easier navigating around people when they move out of his way first.

There's already a person at the counter, and the first Robin knows of them is his stick bumping into their shoes. He offers a quick apology, uses their position to work out where to queue, and moves to stand there. Sarah must notice him from behind the counter; she's quick to assure him that she'll ' _only be a moment_ '. Robin nods, waits a few seconds, then takes the time to listen to the conversations happening around him.

There's a man with a nasal voice sitting at the table just behind him complaining about a sports game, frustrated with his team being only 3 points from the lead and convinced the other has _obviously_ cheated - the woman with him seems entirely too smug in pointing out that he's only a sore loser because her team won. There's an elderly man further behind trying to get his grandchild to eat their greens so they can grow to be big and strong like their brother. There's a couple of girls back to his left chatting about what they've been watching on tv, thoroughly excited that an actor they adore has finally got a role with a show that appreciates him. And there's a young woman sat to his right on the raised decking talking to her friends about a hot guy at work who she wants to take into the copy room and use his tie to...

The rest he tunes out, lest he have to order a cup of tea with cheeks as hot as Vesuvius.

The person in front of him moves away and Sarah calls Robin a couple of steps forward, asking; "what can I get you, my friend?"

"Another tea, please," Robin answers, and then spontaneously getting a craving for something sweet; "and a slice of Victoria Sponge cake too."

"Sure, you go and sit back down and I'll..." Sarah starts, but then her voice trails off and Robin's left to wonder what's going on. But then she's speaking up again; "change of plan: you stay right there."

Robin frowns. Sarah usually tells him to go and sit down, that she'll bring whatever he ordered over to him (especially when it comes to hot drinks) and give him a receipt at the end of the day - with the 'best friend of the owners' discount applied to it.

But apparently, not today.

"Just scooch over to the left a little," Sarah says, and despite his frown Robin takes two small steps to his left. She chuckles and corrects him; " _my_ left. Your right."

Setting his jaw, Robin moves back the two steps he just took, and then two extra, wondering if he needs to take another one until Sarah tells him ' _that'll do_ '.

"What can I get you?" she asks, and it takes Robin longer than it should to work out that she has another customer.

He's not sure why he couldn't just sit down whilst she took their order, but then he hears it; the soft, expressive, American drawl he couldn't forget even if he wanted to, and he can't help the beaming smile that grows across his face.

"One ham and cheese panini, and two tuna melts, please," she replies, and Robin's sure she's not even an arm's length away from him.

 _Keep it cool, Locksley,_ he tells himself. _Don't cock it up._

"Two bottles of coke and a water too?" Sarah asks, and the woman next to Robin answers in the affirmative, sounding surprised that the staff know her usual order after only two visits.

Sarah rings up the total, and Robin hears the clink of coins in terracotta as Regina deposits her change in the charity pot.

There's a pause where Robin's just standing there, facing her general direction as he tries to work out what to do without making a fool of himself.

She must have noticed him and thought he was staring, because not too long after he hears a slightly confused; "hello?"

Robin blinks, realising that she's talking to him and is actually expecting a response. The best he has to offer is a simple; "Hello."

 _You could have done better than that_ , Robin internally grumbles. He could have asked how she was, or commented on the weather, or any other small talk. But no... He had to close the conversation before it has even started, and create an uncomfortable air around them by making her think he was staring at her. Though he has spent so long trying to work out what to say to relieve the awkwardness that he doesn't realise he hasn't even moved yet, until she asks a pointed; "are you okay?"

Internally cringing, Robin nods his head and rushes to give an assuring; "yeah."

But then he realises that he's just stunted their conversation again and he mentally kicks himself. _So much for playing it cool, you bloody idiot._

There's an even more awkward pause before the woman breathes out a bemused ' _okay_...', presumably trying to work out the best way to avoid the creep who can't look away from her - even though he can't see anything to look away _from_.

Even so, Robin's other senses are completely taken over by her; he can hear the tap of her nails against the wooden countertop, the quiet clicking of her tongue as she waits for her order, and every breath he takes has him fighting not to lean closer to work out if the floral scent he can smell is her perfume or deodorant or shampoo or...

"You smell like flowers," Robin blurts out.

In the quiet seconds that follow he shoves his hands in his pockets so as not to hide his face in his palms.

Well... At least now he can't make this conversation any _more_ awkward.

"I work in a flower shop," she informs him, sounding even more wary than when she started.

Lifting a shoulder in a half-shrug, Robin mumbles to himself, "that makes sense."

She hears him, responds with an awkward ‘ _yup’_ before they fall back into silence again.

It's not often that Robin believes in miracles, but if this conversation could end without a restraining order he'll be praying to whatever deity that granted him one.

His miracle comes in the form of Sarah, coming out of the kitchen to tell the woman next to him; "I'm afraid we've had a little problem with the panini press, but it'll only take a moment to get it back up and running, and we'll throw in a free dessert for your trouble."

"Oh, right... That's okay."

Robin frowns, not completely buying into Sarah's scenario and convinced it's just an attempt at matchmaking on her behalf. If he wasn't trying so hard to get this American woman to like him then he'd probably tell Sarah to go back and try and sort it.

But as it is he needs help, it's been so long since he's even tried to converse with a woman who caught his interest he's forgotten how it works.

"What dessert would you like?" Sarah asks, and the woman next to him barely has chance to utter ' _um...'_ before she's interrupted with; "Robin's our taste-tester, he knows all the best ones, you should ask him for recommendations."

"Um... Okay."

Robin freezes at being put on the spot and momentarily forgets every food he's ever had when she asks; "what would you suggest?"

He can practically hear Sarah glaring at him, and for a moment he wishes he could properly glare back. It's been over a decade since his less-than-amicable break-up with Marian, and he hasn't been in a relationship since - a few failed attempts notwithstanding - so if she could give him a break for being a little rusty that'd be great.

"The brownies are delicious, as is the chocolate fudge cake," he ends up saying - once words have returned to him. "But my absolute favourite has to be the apple pie."

Regina hums appreciatively at the mention of the latter.

_Jackpot._

"You like apple pie?"

"Love it," the woman opposite him says, and he can hear the smile in her voice. "Though I'm better at putting apples in turnovers than pies."

“You bake?" Robin asks, adding yet another snippet of information into his mental 'mysterious, American woman' file.

"Whenever I have the time."

"That's great." Robin pauses again, his toes fidgeting in his shoes as he tries to work out what next to say.

Sarah beats him to it.

"Well, Robin here loves food. You two would be the perfect match," she encourages, and Robin is one moment away from telling her to just stop talking; he's established that he's no expert in this, but even _he_ knows there's such a thing as being too obvious.

Fortunately, she merely chuckles, and Robin retracts all previous plans to push Sarah away. He needs to hear that sound more often; that low, rich hint of laughter that he just _knows_ would accompany a dazzling smile.

"Oh, don't worry, my housemate eats enough for the both of us," she assures, and suddenly Robin's heart drops.

"Housemate?"

Before Robin's mind can run amok with all the possible connotations, the door to the kitchen swings open, and John calls to his wife; "Sarah, is there a reason the panini press is un-"

His words die out and Robin can only assume Sarah has levelled him with a glare equivalent to ' _shut up before I kill you'._

"I better sort that piece of junk out," she states, before she lowers her voice and mutters; "and the panini press."

The woman next to him lets out another chuckle, and despite all of his mental protesting, Robin's half tempted to ask Sarah to stay. He _definitely_ needs to hear that sound more often.

As it is, he knows Sarah has gone through to the kitchen when John lets out a yelp followed by a low chuckle; Will had made his displeasure at the rear-pinching between the couple known years ago. There are some things Robin is grateful he can't see.

"So..." John asks as he walks towards them. "Are you going to introduce me to your lady friend?"

"Oh... Um..."

Robin _would,_ if he actually knew her name.

"I'm Regina," she offers, and before he can help it, a broad smile is making its way onto Robin's face.

The name suits her. Well, her _voice_ anyway; strong, confident, someone to trust...

Underneath his train of thought, he just about hears the pleasantries exchanged between John and Regina, the ' _nice to meet you's_ and the pause where Robin assumes they shake hands - John's a serial hand-shaker; the main reason Sarah works out front is that John almost broke a customer's hand once whilst on a caffeine rush.

He almost feels sorry for Regina, hopes John doesn't hurt her. But she doesn't sound in pain - not even the hidden, gritted-teeth ' _I'm fine'_ pretence he can easily pick up on.

Then John brings her attention back to him by stating; "And that awkward lump is Robin."

And Robin's suddenly a dear in the headlights again.

"Hi..."

John coughs, and Robin can make out ' _hand'_ and he realises Regina must be waiting to officially greet him too. In his haste, Robin sticks out his hand in front of him, and it's not until John coughs ' _left_ ' that Robin's aware he's facing the wrong direction entirely.

_Bloody fantastic._

"Sorry," he mumbles as he turns, feeling blush heat his cheeks. But then her hand is in his and a smile tugs at his lips.

Life is grand.

"Nice to meet you, Robin."

No; life is _perfect_.

He almost misses the kitchen door swinging as Sarah re-enters, too busy focussing on the feel of Regina's palm against his, her skin cooled from winter air a stark contrast to his café-heated warmth.

But then she releases him, and Robin hears the crinkle of the paper bags as she takes them from Sarah.

"There's a brownie, a chocolate fudge cake and a slice of apple pie in there too," Sarah says. "See which one you like most for next time."

Robin can hear the gratitude in Regina's voice as she responds; "Oh, you didn't have to do that."

"I think you've put enough in the tip jar to warrant it," Sarah chuckles, before continuing with; "think of it as an investment; we give you puddings, you give us your custom."

 _Sneaky_ , Robin thinks. Not only a way to get Regina to recommend the place, but also a way to ensure she comes here again _. Sneaky, sneaky Sarah._

Regina sighs, and Robin can already hear the humour in her tone. "I guess I can manage that."  

"Great!"

"I'll see you tomorrow," Regina offers, a slight question in her tone, but _oh_ how Robin hopes she'll come back.

They all offer her ' _goodbye's,_ and Robin awaits for the sound of her heels on the wood floor as she leaves. But it doesn't come until he's received his own, personal 'bye' and the touch of her hand on his arm.

He's half-glad she's walking away; she won't see the beaming grin that he tries to suppress until his cheeks ache.

...

His smile is intermittent throughout the afternoon, easing when his attentions are focussed on conversing with friends, and returning whenever he remembers the feel of Regina's hand in his or the sound of her voice.

She pops into his mind throughout the day. He even thinks about her on his way to a child's creative afternoon with MySight. He's walking along the street, noting the scents as he goes, and once he passes the stale heat from the buses, and the cloying varnish from the carpenters, he smells sweet flowers and immediately thinks of her - wondering what she's up to and hoping she's having a good day.

Thankfully, _his_ day is going alright. He's dragged Sarah's brother George with him to this charity event, both as a fellow volunteer and as a guide. Robin's mapped most of the main routes around the city; the easiest way to the bus stops, the path to Old Market Square at the heart of Nottingham, a general loop around the city, but it still helps to have someone minding his step whenever he's going anywhere.

The fifteen minute bus journey to the community centre has been filled with George's ramblings. He's planning a film night for this Sunday, continuing his Star Wars marathon with Attack of the Clones.

Robin has always been more of a Trekkie himself, but bringing that up around George is akin to starting World War Three. And the last time that had happened, Robin required four stitches in his right palm. However, their respected, decade-old tradition of apology-by-beer had everyone over it within the week, and it's still a running joke between the two; a real threat to deliver when trying to convince the other that their franchise is better. But it's all in good jest. They've been through enough together that slicing one's palm open was no biggie.

They'd first met through Sarah. She'd befriended Robin at his University - at a time when many others wouldn't come near him with a ten-foot barge pole - and then had introduced him to her brother. They had immediately clicked and gotten along, immediately felt comfortable, and it was only two weeks into their friendship when George had revealed he was partially deaf.

Suddenly the kindness shown by the Rochester family made sense, the lack of judgement shown towards him, and as the trio of friends grew in size until it adopted the 'band of Merry Men' label, they all considered each other as family - Sarah and John even going so far as to make it official.

Since then they've all been inseparable. All working in John and Sarah's diner - with the exception of Robin and George, both of whom treat the place like their second home anyway. And it is rare that a day goes by without them seeing each other.

But it isn't as if George minds; he's actually confessed he enjoys accompanying Robin to these gatherings. He meets new people willing to laugh at his terrible jokes, he can play with kids doing lots of arts and crafts, and he gets to play his music - and by extension promote his professional albums for free. He loves it.

He's not the only one to play - even Robin dabbles from time to time - and as they walk into the community centre, they can already hear the melodic notes of an acoustic guitar playing from inside. The music is set up against the far right wall, and there's usually enough floor space in front for a little dancing if the kids want to. The back wall has been designated the craft area, where balls of modelling clay are already laid out in three colours at every space on the table. To the left is where the charity always puts Robin's favourite area; Story Time. A semi-circle of bean bags and cushions in front of the chair where a volunteer reads a book for the kids, and a small, padded leather bench in the corner where Robin usually sits to listen.

That isn't to say that Robin doesn't dabble in the other activities; he tries his hand at modelling pots and cups with clay, and singing a couple of songs for everyone - he even went on the dance floor to bust a move once, but ended up treading on three children's feet and knocking over a toddler, so he hasn't tried since. Robin has never been much of a dancer anyway.

This time, however, he sticks to his little corner and listens to a creative telling of 'The Three Little Wolves', where the pig was the one trying to kill the innocent trio instead of the reversed roles in the traditional tale. He only leaves his seat whenever he's craving another cup of tea, and even then, it only takes a minute to walk along the edge of the room, put his order in, and then carry his drink back in the lidded polystyrene cup.

On his third cuppa, his journey back is interrupted by a hand grabbing his elbow.

"Robin…"

"George?" Robin asks, recognising that voice anywhere. "Is everything alright?"

"There's a young girl sat on the bench outside," George answers. "She seems pretty upset."

"Right…" Robin pauses, awaiting to be told whatever it is that George wants to say to him. But then the pieces click and he fills in the blanks himself; "you want me to talk to her."

"I've tried, and so have a couple of others," he starts. "But she doesn't seem to be listening. Keeps telling us that we ' _don't get it'_."

"Okay," Robin breathes, and then starts to make his way outside to the only bench he knew of; down the access ramp to the left of the door, five medium paces, and a ninety degree turn.

He folds his white stick before he sits down next to the girl, then places it on the space to his right.

"Are you okay?" he asks, softening his tone as much as he can without appearing condescending to the child.

She sniffles, and that's an answer all in itself.

"What's wrong?"

Sure enough, she pushes him away as she has everyone else; "I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay," Robin shrugs, before shuffling back to lean against the wooden slats behind him. "I'll stay here until you do."

The girl asks a suspicious sounding, "why?"

"Because I'm not leaving a child to sit outside and cry alone," Robin answers, perfectly happy to sip his tea and keep a young girl company until she feels a little better. "I may not be able to see but I have a good ear. I will listen when you're ready."

There's a pause whilst she takes in a shaky breath, at war whether to speak her mind or keep it to herself, before she decides to confess a watery; "I'm going blind."

_Ah…_

All too well, Robin remembers the struggle of losing his sight, convinced that his life was over, and that instead of living like everyone else he'd just… exist. Losing one's sight is losing one's connection with their surroundings. And there is no easy way to go through that.

Small wonder the girl is unhappy. And she likely will have a part of that sadness for the rest of her life. Robin still has days where he feels lost, like he's falling into a pit of darkness with no bottom, and despite desperately reaching out for a hand to hold, there's never anybody to reach back for him. 

Fortunately, those days are few and far between now, and surrounding himself with his friends – family, really – combat the loneliness whenever it starts to creep in and tries to take control. But as a child, he remembers how completely terrifying it was.

"It's pretty scary, huh?"

The girl responds back in a tiny voice; "Yeah… I don't like it."

Robin lets out a soft chuckle. "I'm sure you can ask any person here, and they didn't like it either."

"Are you…? I- I mean can you…?" The girl stutters, and without her even finishing the question he knows what she's asking.

"I can't see a thing," he answers. "And trust me, when I was losing my sight, I was terrified. A _complete_ wreck. You're managing a lot better than I did."

"My little brother won't leave my side…" she says, a smile evident in her voice. “Mum had to promise him three scoops of ice cream and a magazine for him to let me come here on my own."

"He sounds very protective of you. I'm glad you have him." Robin gently leans towards her and nudges her shoulder as he praises; "And it's very brave of you to come here on your own."

"I need to start learning to be independent."

The words sound rehearsed, as if she's said - and heard - them several times before, and Robin won't have her withdrawing from people she loves because she thinks she'd be a burden.

"Independence is a marvellous thing, and there will be times when you have to manage by yourself," he begins, speaking surely as if willing her to believe him. "But there is no shame in having friends and family around to help you when you need them."

"But…" she starts, before continuing in such a small voice that Robin's face instantly drops; "I don't want to be any trouble."

"You are not trouble; you are a human being. And if you need someone to make your meals, or pick out your clothes, or paint your face in that make-up stuff…" He pauses his assurances whilst she giggles at him, before becoming a little serious as he promises her; "I'm sure the people who love you would trip over themselves to help you."

"I guess…" she concedes, and Robin smiles in victory. Though his smile soon falls when she asks; "But what about at school? The other kids will make fun of me."

"Kids are so mean nowadays," Robin mumbles, before setting out to teach her a novel way of dealing with her disability; "but they'll only be jealous of your superpower."

 _That_ has her attention.

He feels her shift as she turns to look at him, inquiring; "Superpower?"

"Yeah. Didn't they tell you? To make up for you going blind, the universe gives you superpowers."

"No, it doesn't," comes her instant dismissal, paired with a scoff.

"Does too," Robin replies, and he swears he sounds more like a child than the young girl sat next to him.

"How?" He hears the challenge in her tone, and as she shifts again, Robin imagines her folding her arms and staring at him.

"Well, because your eyes aren't busy taking in all the colours and faces and words, it means that all the power of your sight moves to your other senses," he explains. He may be smudging the facts a little by choosing to call adapting through practice a gift from the cosmos. But if it helps the girl to accept the difficulties she'll face, he can live with telling a few blurred truths. "You'll be able to smell things before other people can, and be better at telling what it is. _And_ \- this is the best part - your hearing becomes super-duper strong. You'll be able to hear so much, enjoy music much more, tune in and out to different conversations easily. And you'll become something of a mind-reader." 

"Shut the front door!" she exclaims, and Robin chuckles.

"It's true; you'll pick up on things in people's voices that tell you what they're thinking and feeling. So if they say that they're fine, but they're actually not, you'll be able to hear that. And if someone is trying to pretend to be calm, but they're actually so excited that they're screaming inside, you'll be able to tell that too."

"Really?"

"Really. It's like a built in lie-detector." Robin leans towards the girl and nudges her shoulder, lowering his voice to ask; "Now isn't that a cool super-power to have?"

"Yeah, I guess that _is_ very cool."

"See? If anyone is mean to you, then they're just jealous that they don't have super powers." Robin pauses to gain her attention before he vows; "you are far more special than any bully. Okay?"

"Okay," she whispers, sounding so very touched. "Thank you."

Robin offers what he hopes is a comforting smile. "Anytime."

He feels the girl shuffle closer to him, tentatively resting her head against his shoulder, and with a smile he lifts his arm and wraps it around her.

"I'm Gretel by the way," she says, as if she's only just realized that they've had an entire conversation and not even introduced themselves.

"I'm Robin."

"Thank you, Robin."

He smiles, feeling grateful that he's managed to do good today. "You are most welcome, Gretel." 

They sit there, listening to the sound of the music and faint conversations from within community centre, and it's not long before Gretel starts pointing out things her growing 'super power' has picked up on.

Robin can't help the proud smile growing on his face.

Yeah; he did very good today. 

 


	4. 17th January - "The Day You Fought for Me"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my darlings. Surprise: another update! In Britain we don’t tend to celebrate Thanksgiving, but I just want to say that I’m thankful for every single person who has offered me reviews or comments or any kind words; y’all rock!

 

Business is rather slow in Regina’s store today. They’ve had a few customers in the morning, a couple of requests for birthday bouquets and one for condolences, but the rest of the time has been spent neatening displays, planning a possible redecoration, and sat around the counter chatting about goings on.

Faye is lamenting her lack of social life, wishing that someone would just take her out on a date already so she can get some. Snow is discussing how long she’ll be on maternity leave – despite only planning for a few weeks, Regina knows Snow will take all the time available to her attached to her little one.

The bell above the door jingles, and Regina looks up to see a brunette entering her store.

“Hi, can I help you with anything?”

The brunette smiles and shakes her head; “I’m just looking, thanks.”

“Alright, if you need anything just give me a shout.”

With a wink and a click of her tongue, the woman finger guns and mutters ‘ _gotcha’_ before perusing the buckets of flowers.

Regina turns back to Mary Margaret, catching the tail end of her conversation with Faye; “…I just don’t want to spend so long off that you guys realise you can manage without me.”

With a smile and a roll of her eyes, Regina places her hand over her friend’s. “Listen, whether you take off three weeks or three months, your job will still be here when you’re ready to come back. I promise you.”

“Really?”

Regina smiles. “Really.”

“And what if you need to hire new staff to fill my role whilst I’m gone?”

“Then I’ll hire them on a temporary basis,” Regina declared. “You’re not just a colleague; you’re my friend. I’m not going to fire you because you have a baby; that’s ridiculous. I need you here so your Disney princess attitude balances out my endless pessimism.”

The three women laugh, many a joke having been made at the polar-opposite ways that the trio dealt with everything. They are similar in some ways, and even though their differences are so vast, they balance each other out. They just work so well together.

Regina’s attention gets distracted by the brunette walking up to the counter with a bouquet of white tulips and yellow daisies, and she moves to the till to serve her.

“Is that everything?”

“Yup.” The woman grins, before her smile falls and her eyes go wide; “oh, I forgot to write a card.”

Regina points to the table in the left corner, “cards are just there. You write that and I’ll wrap these.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Regina watches the young woman bite her lip as she browses the card designs, trying to place why she looks familiar. When she picks one and starts writing, Regina gives up and moves the bouquet to the table behind her to wrap it. She chooses a layer of clear cellophane before adding a layer of brown paper to keep with the simplicity of the flowers, just finishing tying the orange ribbon around it when her customer returns to stand in front of the counter with the freshly written card.

Regina takes it from her fingers and places it in one of the simple card holders – the mini clothespins attached to wooden sticks – and then inserts it into the bouquet. It is then that she notes it says ‘Get Well Soon, Granny’, and then it clicks as to where Regina knows her from.

“Ruby, right? You work at Granny’s Diner.”

“I do,” she admits. “Well… I _did._ It’s closed at the moment. Granny had a heart attack and so she’ll be busy recovering for a while.”

“Oh. Sorry to hear that,” Regina offers. “Is she going to be alright?”

“Pah, she’ll be fine,” Ruby dismisses. “She’s a tough old broad.”

Regina laughs. “Yes, I always got that impression.”

“She’ll be up and barking orders again before you even know it,” Ruby chuckles, digging through her bag for her purse as Regina rings up the total.

“Give her my best wishes,” Regina says as she hands over the bouquet.

Ruby winks again before she turns and walks to the door, leaving the store with a ‘thanks’ and the jingle of a bell.

“Do you think _she’d_ date me?” Faye asks the moment the door clicks shut, chin resting on her hands atop the counter as she continues her tirade on lack of love life.

“When I see her again I’ll ask her,” Regina quips, giggling when Faye’s eyes grow wide. “Down girl, I was kidding.”

Faye relaxes, but her eyes still wistfully travel to the door, and Regina sees no harm in a little matchmaking if it gives her little Tinkerbelle her wings again. 

…

The moment the clock on the wall reaches 12 ‘o’ clock, both Mary Margaret and Faye stop what they are doing to turn and look at Regina with pleading gazes.

With a sigh and a roll of her eyes, Regina heads into the back for her coat, psyching herself up to brave the cold temperatures to buy lunch for the three of them.

“The things I do for you guys…” she mutters as she walks back out into the front.

“You love us really,” Faye jokes.

Regina leaves with a parting glare to them both.

The icy wind takes her breath away the moment she steps outside, and she’s half tempted to head back into her shop and tell one of the other two to get their lunch, but then Marco pokes his head out from his store next door, and she can’t help the grin appearing on her face.

“It’s a bit cold to be outside, my dear,” he observes, already rubbing his hands together for warmth.

Regina huffs, watching as her breath mists in front of her. Point proven.

“I’m just heading out to get lunch for the girls.” Already feeling the chill, Regina puts her hands in her coat pockets and starts shifting her weight. “Do you want me to get you anything while I’m there?”

“No, thank you,” Marco replies – although he hesitates just a bit too long for Regina to buy it.

She tilts her head and raises a brow, “not even a hot cappuccino?”

“You know me too well,” he chuckles.

He starts burrowing in his pockets, trying to find change, but Regina is already walking away, fully intent on buying him his cup of coffee. “Sorry, I can’t take any money; my hands are stuck in my pockets.”

When Marco starts protesting, Regina starts talking loudly over him, confirming that he takes two sugars, assuring him she’ll be back soon, and teasing he’s not to worry too much while she’s gone…

When he gives up, and shakes his head in defeat, Regina turns to face the direction she’s walking in with a victorious smile.

…

By the time she reaches Merry Men’s Diner, Regina is sure her nose is so cold there should be icicles hanging from it. It should be illegal to be out when the temperature is below freezing; there should be a minimum threshold where people don’t have to work and they can just stay inside wrapped in a duvet and watching a movie.

But no… This is the United Kingdom. And despite their public transport system grinding to a halt at the first flake of snow, it’d take a zombie apocalypse before workers were allowed to stay at home.

“What can I get you, dear?” Sarah asks from behind the counter when Regina’s within earshot.

“One ham and cheese panini, and two tuna melts to go, please,” Regina replies, and is just about to relay the drinks too when Sarah beats her to it and puts them on the counter. “You know me too well already.”

“I just like to remember orders from our regulars,” Sarah shrugs – though the mischievous glint in her eye hints at that not being the entire truth.

But before Regina can press a little further, she remembers that she’s supposed to be buying a cup of coffee for Marco as well; “oh, and can I have a cappuccino too?”

Sarah nods and heads to the coffee machine. “Is that to go too?”

“Yup, it’s for my neighbour,” Regina smiles. “Well… work neighbour; he owns the shop next to mine.”

“Oh, what does he do?”

“He’s a carpenter, does a lot of woodwork,” Regina answers. “He carves _beautifully._ ”

“Where’s that?”

“Friar Lane. Towards the top end past all the bus stops.” Regina gestures vaguely behind her, knowing it won’t really help - but still smiling when Sarah politely nods in response.  

“I’ll make sure to drop by at some point,” Sarah vows, before she announces she’s just going to pop into the kitchen to sort out her order, and leaves Regina standing at the counter.

Whilst nobody is manning the front, Regina turns and takes up her past time of people watching. She likes the idea that every person has their own story; the old couple in the corner, where did they meet? When? Was it love at first sight? Were they friends first? Did they hate the sight of each other until something made them stop and go ‘hold up a minute…’?

And what about the young girl sat in the corner? Headphones on and mouthing away song lyrics, textbook and laptop open on the table in front of her. Still at school? In college? Training for work?

Her eyes fall on Robin and her lips can’t help but quirk. What is his story? Was he blind from birth? Was it a disease? An accident? And what about his relationship to the owners of the diner; did he know them before they opened this place? Is he a regular that they’ve grown close to?

Her eyes fall on the wallet he has resting on the table – black leather with a batman logo on the front – and she wonders if he buys these things or if they’re bought for him. She wonders if he’s the superhero fan or if it’s a friend of his that is slipping the references into his life as a running joke...

Her head ducks as she chuckles to herself…

When she raises her gaze, her eyes catch a guy walking from the restroom at the front of the diner along the footpath, something immediately making Regina feel a little uneasy. He slows as he passes Robin’s table, and Regina can’t help but find that a little suspicious – especially when he looks over his right shoulder and smirks.

Regina looks at Robin, looking for any kind of sign of a prank being played, but there’s no sign of anything… His plate is still empty, his mug of tea still in the same place, the menu is a little skewed but it could have been like that earlier…

It’s then she notices the wallet.

Or lack thereof.

That sick jackass.

Without even thinking, Regina is leaving her position at the counter and is only a step behind the man who has stolen Robin’s wallet.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

The man turns, strands of his long, brown hair falling in front of his face as he glares at Regina. “Excuse me?”

“You just stole that guy’s wallet right from under his nose.”

The guy shrugs. “Prove it.”

“I just saw you!”

Regina watches as the man in front of her gets irate, obviously flustered at being caught as he retaliates with; “Yeah, well… _He_ shoulda been watchin’.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Regina snaps, the insinuation that a _blind_ guy should be watching out for thieves having her not even caring about people inside the diner hearing her language.  “Return it.”

Changing his tune, he tries to act casual as he states; “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You just admitted that he ‘shoulda been watchin’” Regina mocked. “So make up your damn mind.”

He changes tactics again, this time going on the charm offensive. “You know, I love a girl with a bit of fire…”

When he takes a step towards her with a predatory smile on his face, Regina can’t help the decades-old reflexes which have her taking a step back in an attempt to keep distance between them.  It’s a mistake on her part; showing weakness. Now he knows how to affect her and get under her skin, and with that knowledge he takes another step towards her and reaches for her arm.

“Don’t be like that, babe,” he tries, but Regina pulls away from his grasp and puts another step between them.

"Touch me again and I'll break your fingers," she threatens, her gaze hardening as she tries to show she’s not one to push around.

"A little girl like you shouldn't give threats," he delivers with a low voice and a dark gaze.

"A little girl like me knows how to defend herself," Regina counters, calling upon all the self-defence lessons she has attended to give her a sense of security. "So give the wallet back and don't make a scene."

He looks around, and Regina watches recognition dawn when he sees everyone's eyes are already on him. It takes him a while, but eventually he concedes, knowing when he’s beaten. Shoving the wallet into Regina’s hand, he grumbles under his breath as he storms out and makes a hasty retreat.

Regina walks back to Robin’s table, puts his wallet a little closer to his body that it had been with a curt; “here.”

She’s still trying to calm herself as she walks back to the counter, but Sarah’s already back in her position and asking; “what happened there?”

She doesn’t get a chance to respond as there’s the sound of someone clapping from behind her, and then someone else joins in, and then another person, and another, until the entire Diner is clapping and cheering for her, giving her smiles and thumbs up in praise.

Without even knowing what’s going on, Sarah is clapping from behind her, and Regina ducks her head and dismisses her admiring audience as she turns back around to the owner.

“A guy tried to steal Robin’s wallet. I got it back,” Regina supplies before the woman opposite her can even ask again.

“Was that Keith?” Sarah muses. “I always knew that guy was no good, but I never realised he was an actual criminal.”

“Well, if he comes here again he risks being recognised, so I think that’ll be the last you see of him.”

“Good riddance.” Sarah glares at the door, before she catches sight of the bag of food in her hand and puts it on the counter. “Oh, here’s your food, dear.”

Regina mumbles her thanks, but then Sarah holds up her hand and tells her to ‘ _wait there’_ whilst she heads into the back again.

Whilst she’s waiting, Regina sees Robin come to stand next to her out of the corner of her eye.

"You didn't have to do that," he states, his hands tucking in his pockets as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

Regina frowns, teasing; "So I should have just let him take your wallet?"

"No. I just…" Robin pauses, brows furrowing for a moment before he insists; "You don't have to put yourself in harm’s way for me just became I'm blind."

"I didn't; I got your wallet back because it was the right thing to do."

Robin looks rather sheepish, mumbling a quiet; "oh…"

"That and he was a total jackass," Regina teases, aiming to at least get a smile from the guy. It works.

Then Sarah comes back out, stopping to smile before she adds a small polystyrene container into Regina’s paper bag. “A free dessert for your trouble. And thank you.”

Regina laughs. “You’ll have given me your entire dessert menu soon.”

“Are you seriously complaining about free puddings?” Sarah asks with a hand on her hip.

“Not at all,” she assures her, wondering what treat she’ll have in her bag – and deciding to leave it until she got into her shop to find out as a surprise. Looping the bag around her wrist, Regina pays Sarah for the food, drops her change into the charity pot, and then announces; “I need to get this food back to my girls.”

“Alright,” Sarah says with a small wave of her hand. “See you soon.”

Regina responds in kind, and then turns to Robin. “Keep your wallet the other side of the table from now on, okay? Or out of sight: in your pocket?” she suggests.

“Will do,” he responds, and Regina nods in approval even though she knows he can’t see her.

“Good.” She can’t help but nudge his arm as she mutters a small ‘ _see you’_ , just letting him know that she’s leaving so he’s not standing there on his own.

And then she’s heading back outdoors to deliver the food to the girls waiting for her, knowing they’ll pounce on her the moment she gets in.

The icy breeze is still blowing, and Regina makes a mental note to dig out the scarf Mary Margaret had knitted for her at Christmas so she can protect her nose from turning as red as Rudolph’s. She thinks it’s still at the shop, in one of the cupboards in the back room where they sometimes hang out after closing. She’ll check later on.

Regina makes a pit stop at Marco’s first to deliver the coffee. When she enters, she sees that the stray cat that hangs about this street – nicknamed Figaro – is lying in the small bed that Marco has carved for him near the front window. She can’t help but walk over and run her hand along his fur, fingers gently scratching behind twitching ears.

The clacking of a wooden wind chime from behind her has Regina spinning around, startled at the sudden realisation there is a customer in the shop with her.

“Sorry luv, didn’t see ya there,” he apologises, raising a hand in greeting.

“It’s alright, I was just dropping this coffee off.”

“The owner’s out back, but he said he’d only be a min,” the customer says, thumb gesturing to the ajar door in the far wall.

“That’s alright.” Regina walks over to the counter, depositing the paper cup onto the wooden top next to the till, turning to the customer and asking; “when he comes back out can you just tell him his coffee is on the counter?”

“Sure thing.”

With a small wave and a final scratch behind Figaro’s ears, Regina leaves and heads to her own store, ready to feed two very hungry ladies.

…

The rest of the afternoon passes by with a flurry of activity; four different people enter her store to ask for directions to either the train station or one of the shopping centres; a young girl decides to rearrange the flower displays to her liking – and she looks so proud of herself that Regina doesn’t have the heart to ask her to stop – so the trio spend half an hour putting the shop to rights again; and there are no fewer than three people who slip on the patches of ice on the pavement outside. 

After she closes her store, Regina walks home, hands in her pockets surviving the chilly air. Nose tucked into the chunky, burgundy scarf that Mary Margaret knitted for Christmas – that she found exactly where she thought it would be.

It takes less than quarter of an hour for Regina to walk home, but it's still almost fifteen minutes in the cold that Regina would prefer to be nice and toasty inside somewhere. So the moment she gets into her apartment lobby - where the heaters fixed above the door keep the place comfortably warm - she takes a moment to just stand and bask.

"You alright there?" The security guard asks from inside his booth.

Regina turns to him, the gruff ball of rage that sometimes cracks a smile or whistles a tune when he thinks nobody is around. "I'm fine. It's just rather cold outside." 

"Tell me 'bout it, sister," he grumbles. "I'm almost losing appendages to frost bite." 

"That is… more information than I wanted to know." Regina shudders, starting to make her way to the lift, "see you later, Grumpy."

“See you later, Mistress of Evil,” he retorts.

Regina presses the button for the top floor and glares at him until the doors close, and then her features soften and her fingers tap a rhythm on the metal railing as she ascends to her apartment.

When she steps out of the elevator she already hears the music from her neighbour, imagines the redhead dancing around her apartment and already feels exhausted for her. She’ll stick to her movie night with Mal, chilling with a glass of wine and homemade carbonara tagliatelle – the latter of which she can smell the moment she enters, and she lets out a pleased sigh.

She drops her keys in the bowl on the side table next to the door, taking a moment to appreciate Mal turning the heating up for when she comes home even thought that woman is like a personal furnace, before starting to unwind her scarf to hang it on the hooks fixed to the back of their door – her black coat joining it a moment later.

The tv is on low, playing some documentary about planet earth, and Regina sees a mass of blonde curls poking up from the corner sofa in the living area of their open plan apartment. The blackout blinds are drawn – at 8pm the sun has long since set – and the only source of light apart from the tv is the standing lamp a few feet away from Mal.

“How was your day?” the blonde asks, craning her neck so she can greet Regina with a smile.

Regina shrugs, offering a vague ‘ _eventful’_ in response as she places her bag on the hardwood floor next to the table housing their keys. Her feet carry her over to where Mal is reclining, not even bothering asking her to move before she sits and slumps against her.

“Tired?” Mal chuckles as she rests her head atop Regina’s.

“I’m not moving from this spot until I have to go to bed,” Regina announces. “And even then you’re carrying me.”

Mal laughs. “I’ll roll you. That’s as good as you’re getting.”

“I’ll take it.”

The two are quiet for a moment, and Regina lets the beautiful views of rainforests and rivers calm her until her stomach decides to make its presence heard. She hasn’t eaten since lunch, and with Mal’s home cooked pasta, it isn’t surprising that Regina suddenly feels ravenous.

Mal shifts to lower both her legs to the floor, announcing; “I’ll go dish up our dinner.”

Regina whines as the support she is leaning on stands and walks over to the back wall where their kitchen is – necessitating in her putting out a hand to stop her falling into the couch cushions face first.

“If you don’t come and collect your plate you’re not getting any food,” Mal calls out, and Regina groans as she forces herself off of the settee and starts walking to meet her housemate.

Though there isn’t a plate ready yet, and a grin spreads across Mal’s face as she asks; “will you be a darling and set the table for us?”

Regina narrows her eyes in a glare before pointedly opening the cutlery draw, letting the metal rattle as she zealously rummages through.

“Aren’t you a cute, little ball of fury today?” Mal coos, grinning harder when Regina huffs in response.

“Are you seriously making fun of me while I have sharp knives at my fingertips?” she threatens.

The smile falls off Mal’s face, her eyes widening as she shakes her head. “Nope. Not at all. I’d never do that to you.”

“Didn’t think so,” Regina glares, before walking to the small dining table set they’d put half way between the living area and the kitchen, arranging the cutlery around the slate placemats.

Refusing to get roped into any more work, Regina sits at the table and yawns.

“So… what made your day ‘eventful’?” Mal asks as she places the large dish of steaming food in front of Regina, before taking her own seat opposite.

“Well… I found out that the reason my usual diner is closed is because the owner had a heart attack; her grand-daughter came in to the store today, and I think Faye developed a little crush on her,” Regina begins. “I almost got into a fight in the diner I now frequent. Four different people came into my shop and asked for directions. There was a patch of ice on the pavement outside and people kept on slipping on it. And a little girl in my store decided to rearrange all the flowers within her reach so it took us half an hour to set it all right again…”

“Woah, hold up,” Mal interrupts. “You almost got into a fight?”

“I confronted a guy after I saw him steal a wallet, and made a few threats to get it back.” Regina pauses before admitting under her breath; “like breaking his fingers…”

“Regina!” Mal admonished.

“What? He called me ‘a little girl’ after he stole from a blind guy! He deserved it.”

Regina watches as Mal frowns, chewing her lower lip. “You could have been hurt, Regina.”

“Mal, we were in a busy diner; if he tried anything there would have been several dozen witnesses.”

“Fair point,” Mal acknowledges. “But if you see him again…”

“I’ll get Emma and her famous PI skills on it,” Regina finishes. “That’ll have him staying far away from me _and_ the diner.”

“Atta girl.”

Regina grins, then gets distracted by the food in front of her and starts twirling the Linguine around her fork, anticipating the first bite and practically salivating already. The first taste is heavenly, and if Mal ever decides to pack up her day job she’d make a fantastic chef. 

“And how was your day?” Regina asks – making sure to ask _just_ as Mal puts a forkful of pasta in her mouth simply to annoy her.

“Busy,” Mal answers after she’s chewed and swallowed her food – glaring at Regina as she did so. “We’re still getting the tail end of the January sales, so we’re getting all the problematic customers…”

“Still? I would have thought the Christmas Rush period would have been over by now…”

Mal scoffs, “you’d _think._ But it’s not. I don’t know how you’re so lucky...”

“I own my store; I can just delegate to the others,” Regina jokes. “Plus I don’t think my bouquets are as popular as Yankee Candles.”

“Well, they should be,” Mal mumbles, eyes drifting around to the arrangements Regina has scattered around. But then Mal spots how many candles she has brought home, and Regina grins when she sees recognition dawn on her housemate that perhaps she is right… They’re practically living in a fire hazard.

Regina arches her brow in triumph, and Mal glares across the table before muttering “ _shut up_ ” and returning to her food, gesturing for Regina to do the same.  

Their plates are cleared in no time, and as Mal prepares the dishwasher, Regina grabs a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and two glasses, and carries them over to the sofa.

“Which film are we watching, Mal?” she calls out, already knowing the answer she’ll get.

“Last week you chose Lara Croft. This week I choose The Devil Wears Prada,” Mal answers back. “We shook on it.”

Regina chuckles, pretty sure that Mal should know the entire script by now with the amount of times they’ve watched it. But it’s her favourite film, and Regina enjoys a good underdog tale of self-discovery every now and again.

After she’s put in the disk, she pulls the oversized fleece blanket from the back of the couch, cosying up underneath it before reaching towards the coffee table and pouring their drinks.

“Mal, come on or I’ll start without you,” Regina threatens, grinning when she hears a clatter from behind her.

“That is uncalled for, Regina,” Mal calls back, before she lowers her voice and jokes; “and not fun at all.”

“It’s sure worked out for me in the past,” Regina drawls, smiling at Mal’s resulting laugh as she walks over.

“Always more fun with a friend though,” Mal teases as she situates herself under the blanket next to Regina – glass of wine in hand.  

Regina doesn’t even offer a response; merely adjusts until she can rest her head on Mal’s shoulder, pressing play on the remote and settling down for the evening to watch a movie with her best friend.


End file.
